


Half-Life: Interloper

by lechechu



Category: Half-Life
Genre: Alien Character(s), Alien Technology, Aliens, Angst, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Emetophobia, Experimental Style, Gen, Gordon Freeman - Freeform, Gun Violence, Near Death Experiences, Pre-Canon, Violence, War, World War II, black mesa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:27:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23831599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lechechu/pseuds/lechechu
Summary: A pre-established story about my rendition of how the G-man came to be his cryptic self. Done in one full-length work of fiction.
Kudos: 7





	Half-Life: Interloper

A snapshot.

Mistaken for a camera flash, the sound of the explosion was deafening. It left rings in their ears, and their muffled commander's yelling to push the force back towards the ridge of buildings that were crumpling under their own weight. Pressing his shoulder against the brick wall, one soldier fumbled with the bullets to reload into his M1 Garand. Fingers managed to halt their shakiness, sliding the bullet into the chamber before cocking back the weapon. 

He raised it around the corner, a crack shot aim to the enemy, of the same bullet he loaded to enter their heads. Despite their efforts to push the front, a sniper had managed to pin them down to their location, which allowed the enemy tanks to wreak havoc to the surrounding buildings in hopes to crush them under the rubble. Destroying the building he was under, the lone soldier cowered away from the blast, to save his ears the rough ring and dead tone of the fight. 

“Alek!”

He managed to understand through the muffled hearing, lightly wiping away the grime and blood that dripped from his ear to make sure he indeed heard right to his name. He caught sight to his comrade waving him over, obviously wounded to a major degree. Venting in heavily, the one called Alek ran over to the other, trying to apply pressure to the bleeding in the side. 

“You have to g-get around the ridge - find Private S-Sampson… he’ll have the Arisaka. Deliver h-hell to the bastards!” Yelling through the onslaught of explosions and gunfire, Alek watched the light leave the soldier’s eyes, feeling a sense of dread wash over him. Death was everywhere, however his chance to save him proved to be of no value. He was no medic, had no experience medically - he was doomed to die either way. Their last medic was recovering from a shotgun blast to the face - they had to be their own medics. 

Lightly curling his fingers into a fist, Alek had flinched to a close proximity blast, remembering he was still within the warzone. Getting around the ridge wasn’t going to be easy, let alone easy going by himself. Deep blue eyes tried to take a glance around the building he took cover behind, growling lightly and clenching his eyes as the sniper gave a warning shot to the building, sparking up debris in front of his face to cloud their sense of direction to where he was coming from. Up high, maybe one of the buildings but could not definitely tell.

Glancing over to his left, Alek had then decided on an alleyway to traverse into, picking up his sargeant’s Beretta. It would be hard to lug a rifle through the streets without being seen, yet only wielding a pistol was even more dangerous. Still, he had a chance in all of this. He needed to get rid of that sniper, and fast - before the enemy tanks would push their position and force their retreat. 

Side-stepping down the alleyway, Alek took initiative to avoid the streets as much as possible, knowing if an enemy got a clear view of him, it was indeed the end. He looked left and right, before sprinting to the other side of the street and into another alleyway, climbing over some trash bins and deceased bodies of civilians caught in the crossfire. The smell was unfathomable, yet the churning in his stomach didn’t halt him in place. He was still in danger, much like his platoon. 

They needed that sniper gone.

Coming to the end of the alleyway, the young soldier gazed out of the area before cowering back into the shadows as he saw one of the enemy tanks explode from driving down the north. Seems like they had an idea to sneak up behind his allies, however were ultimately halted in place. He couldn’t see any other alleyway to traverse to; closed off from access with no way of getting passed. 

Lightly wiping the sweat off of his brow, Alek decided to climb into a crumbling building to avoid being out in the open, and made his way northwest to get to where the sniper pinned them down. He could still hear the continued shots of them, along with the enemy tanks releasing hell on his platoon’s location. The shots were muffled, due to him being away from that location, yet were still pronounced over the atmosphere that hung above them, It was hell - a place that no one should ever experience. 

The world was at war, and this was many of the situations that showed for it. He passed by propaganda, old enemy soldiers that were long dead and being claimed by surrounding bugs and maggots. He could feel himself getting closer, northwest was truly the way to go. As he made his way through the complex, he paused momentarily to catch his breath, and to pat his holster to make sure his gun was indeed still intact. 

Seeing as it was, Alek peeked around the corner, deep blue eyes gazing up to a pronounced building within the center. Faded yellow and crumbling as well, he could have sworn to have spotted the muzzle flash from the sniper. 5th floor, or rather 4th, since the floor above it was no longer standing. Likely due to bombs dropped from the planes. He despised their sounds - nightmares would send him into panic mode should he hear their arrival. It meant destruction, terror, complete power. 

The Stuka.

Looking to the skies, the young soldier then glanced back to the yellow building once the coast was clear, traversing out of his own building and into another to avoid being spotted. It seems that the sniper didn’t take notice of him, and was rather keen on keeping his platoon at a standstill. It wasn’t until a noise behind him that kept him on edge, only for his heart to stop it’s rapid beating once he caught sight of another member of his alliance. However, what he was staring at wasn’t at all what he wanted to see.

It was his friend, also seemingly long dead during the past 7 hours they’ve been outnumbered and cornered by the enemy. His legs were cut off - his body beaten and tortured, rendering half of his face to be completely unrecognizable. It wasn’t war he endured, it was the monster within it. 

Mankind.

Approaching his side, Alek had taken hold of the other’s dog tags from around his neck. While he couldn’t drag him out of there during this battlefield, the least he could do was bring back his legacy. Thumb rubbed over the bloodstain that coated the light metal, before deep blue eyes closed to mourn the loss. Slowly opening his eyes once more, he glanced wearily to the sniper rifle beside the other and placed the tags into his pocket, making a grab for the weapon. 

Finding it to still be loaded with a few bullets, Alek turned his attention to the yellow building just beside the one he was in. It was now or nothing. Making his way to the entrance, the pale, young man tried to avoid making as much noise as possible as he climbed over the rubble, bricks shifting under his boot and threatening to give way. Climbing the debris up to the second floor, he remained quiet to get a determining factor of where the sniper was indeed at.

He hadn’t heard the shots in a few moments - their whereabouts were now unknown. Heart beating in his ears, Alek moved to the stairway, pausing every interval of 5 seconds as the floorboards creaked to his life. The movement of the enemy tank rumbled the very building he stood in, causing the shakiness to return to his hands. Shielding his eyes from the rainshower of dust and debris that fell from the ceiling, Alek stuffed his face into the jacket of his uniform, in hopes to cease any coughing that could potentially ruin his silence.

Hearing a shot go off, the young soldier made his way up the stairway in those same 5-second intervals, coming up to the door of where the announced enemy was. He momentarily peeked in, spotting the outline of a man reloading another shot into the barrel of his rifle. Lightly gripping his own gun, Alek inhaled quietly into his shirt before pulling it down from his mouth and nose, holding his breath as he slowly opened the door once the man returned their vision to the open window.

Slowly stepping inside, deep blue eyes lightly clenched and blinked to get rid of the dust that fell in. Hands slowly lifted the rifle within, aiming at the enemy’s head. If he was correct, it should be finished at point blank, with no chance of missing. It was either his life or the enemy’s. He aimed down the sight, before touching his finger to the trigger, lightly curling around it. The shakiness returned - he was deeply frightened. 

His lungs burned from the air held within, causing him to release his breath sharply and for his finger to pull the trigger. Except, no shot came. The bullet was lodged in the barrel; and it appeared his deceased friend had the same problem.

He was fucked.

Hearing the breath of the other, the enemy quickly turned around yelled, causing Alek to flinch at being caught and the rifle to drop from his hands. Turning his sniper to the other, the enemy soldier was then smashed into by Alek, avoiding the shot that was taken. They wrestled, and the young soldier managed to get the other’s rifle out the window. He was wailed on, however, forced to the hardwood floor to endure the onslaught of punches to his face. 

The pale young man struggled to get the other off of him, trying to reach for the gun in his holster. Grabbing hold of his Beretta, the enemy aimed it at Alek’s head, cocking it back and shooting. Clenching his eyes shut to the deafening sound, Alek then slowly reopened them, breath hitching to the new environment he was in. 

A hallway, or corridor?

Everything was bright and clean, compared to the wartorn environment he was last in. Why was he here? He glanced to the wall beside him, trying to read the signs that were subsequently mosaiced and difficult to make out. It looked like some kind of… facility. Hospital, perhaps? No, there were no nurses or wounded around. Slowly taking a few steps to start off, the young man glanced down another hallway he passed, spotting none in sight. Was he dead?

Coming to another corridor, he glanced into one of the windows off to his left, spotting a man in a freshly pressed, navy-blue suit and holding a briefcase. His back was turned, and it wasn’t until a minute later did he turn to face Alek, staring at him with illuminated eyes. He felt all color drift out of him, upon the realization that this man wasn’t just an ordinary man in this unordinary place.

It was himself.

Backing up in fear, Alek took off running down the corridor of where he came, only to find that nothing was left of it. Just an empty pit of darkness. Turning back around, that same darkness enveloped him, leaving him to be out of that bright environment, and into a place that was hardly recognizable to man. He panted hard, feeling the anxieties rise up in his throat as he didn’t know what this was, as elongated stars slowly drifted through the dark space around him.

This was surely hell. He was dead and now he was paying the price of fighting in war. Footsteps then filled his ears, as they echoed around the young man with no sensible direction. He glanced at the shadows that were darker than that realm he was in, watching them pause just a mere 5 feet away, in a circle. They stared, like he was some sort of subject. Ceasing his shallow panting, Alek watched as a familiar scene was before him. 

Himself, being shot by the enemy in the war he was fighting. Whispers filled his head, almost beckoning or enticing him to change the fate that was set out for him. He felt afraid, wondering just what exactly was happening to him. Seeing himself, from a third-person point of view about to get eliminated was horrifying. Glancing to his own hand, he glanced to the pistol within, shakily realizing what needed to be done. 

Lightly swallowing, he lifted to aim the handgun to the enemy soldier, finger lightly curling around the trigger. Clenching his deep blue eyes, Alek took the shot, it’s ring echoing around the environment and subspace he was within.

Lightly coming to, the pale young man opened his deep blue eyes to gaze at the ceiling light. In a way, he had hoped it was the light at the end of the tunnel, to save him the life of pain and torment he endured. Instead, the sound of his platoon gave him his reality back - he was still in war, but at peace.

“Hey hey! He’s awake! Man, you gave us quite the scare, Alek!” One of his platoon mates came over to the young soldier, lightly patting his shoulder. Alek glanced around wearily as his fellow colleagues came to gather around his beside, much to the nurse’s dismay, scolding them for getting in her way. 

“We thought you’d never make it. When we found you, you were all twitchy and stuff. Hell, look like lightning struck you. But, you managed to take out that sniper. Good thing too! Pushed the bastards back into the hole.”

“Sarg wasn’t too happy about you going yourself, though. I reckon he’s torn between docking you and promoting you.” The men chuckled and handed the young soldier a cigarette to commend him on his efforts to save their asses. Which was widely needed; Alek had turned the tide for their war. Still, that didn’t stop the thoughts that circled his mind. Where he had gone if that sniper didn’t kill him. 

As the night creeped through time, Alek laid in his hospital cot, trying his best to get some much needed rest before he would be discharged and thrown back into the line of fire. Opening his deep blue eyes, the pale young man then soon got off his bed, knocking over the saline stand as he rushed to the nearest bucket. 

Kneeling down, he heaved and gurgled out the vomit that spilled from his mouth within the container, shaking lightly to the sudden sickness that washed over him. The pale young man never felt so sick in his entire life, and he endured some harsh food poisoning before. This was no food poisoning, this was something else. Stress, maybe a factor, but not to this degree. Before he knew it, he was simply dry heaving bile at this point, as his stomach emptied practically every and all contents within.

Deep blue eyes lightly opened to gaze into the bucket he loomed over, lightly breathing through his mouth to save himself from smelling the contents within to endure another round. He blinked in surprise, upon how much he had indeed filled it with his bodily fluids. It seemed… unnatural. Lingering there momentarily, Alek softly swallowed before flinching as something felt lodged in his throat.

Removing himself from the bucket, he moved to the mirror and clicked on the lamp, trying to see what was lodged within. Lightly coughing, Alek gagged as he reached into his mouth, fingers trying to grasp at the object in his throat. Despite the tears that filled his eyes, the young soldier managed to grab hold of the object and pull it out, dropping into the sink. He coughed hard from the choking feeling finally being relieved, spitting out a bit of leftover bile.

Eyes glanced to the object in the sink, before fingers grasped at the object and rinsed it clean with water. Lightly swallowing and panting, Alek lifted the piece up to the light to examine it further, wiping the saliva from his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. It was a piece of metal, but of no metal he had ever seen. It was twisted, softened perhaps by the churning of his stomach acids. It looked similar in size to a wire nail, the kind that’s used to hang up paintings. He didn’t recall ever ingesting something of this magnitude.

Glancing around to see if anyone was looking, Alek glanced back to the object within his fingers, venting shakily as he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. Was this the effect of what occurred? That man he saw - himself - he’s heard of the term doppelganger before. Was he dead and just experiencing the last moments of his life? Deciding to pinch himself, Alek vented as he felt the pain of it; he was indeed alive.

But at what cost?

Quietly keeping the metal object in his pocket, the young soldier returned to his hospital cot to sit upon, stuffing his face into his hands. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, and everyone seemed to not notice anything that had happened to him. Was he losing it, due to the stress and fear of war? Silently lifting his face, he then turned to lay completely onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling once more. He was damn exhausted, yet wasn’t too sure if he should try and sleep once again. 

Yet exhaustion took over their reign, knocking him out to endure the much needed sleep. Once he woke, it was much to the nurse’s surprise. He had slept a complete 14 hours, without so much as waking up for breakfast or a drink of water. Nonetheless, he was deemed to be alright and discharged from the hospital, to join up with his squad. Lightly buttoning his shirt, Alek watched as his squad were setting up canisters of gas in the middle of the street. 

“Alek! We’re taking a commemorative photo, get over here!” Being tugged over, the young soldier blinked as he sat down on one of the canisters with his platoon gathered around, holding rifles and posing like good soldiers. Seems like a war journalist had decided to document the victory of them holding the front, and wanted to take a photo. While he felt strange to be taking a photo, the pale young man decided to ignore his inner thoughts and pose as well, leaning in close while holding a pair of dog tags.

From his deceased friend. It wouldn’t have been the same without him in the mix. Once the photo was taken, the young man soon felt sick once more, his stomach churning to the effect. Lightly holding his stomach, Alek got up from his canister and made his way to the makeshift fort of HQ, causing his platoon mates to complain that he moved for the photo they wanted to take again. 

Moving to the sink, Alek lingered by it, clenching his eyes shut to endure the sickly feeling. Lingering in that silence, the young man soon gazed up at the mirror before him, staring at his reflection within. A pulse in his head caused him to flinch in pain, as blood began to seep from his nose. Touching his philtrum and grabbing hold of some cloth, he tried to stop the bleeding, but to no avail. It came out like a gentle stream, with no intention of stopping.

Anxiety began to rise once more, why was this happening? 

Stopping himself in his tracks, Alek stood there in silence as he listened to the environment around him. That sound… that  _ familiar _ droning sound. Thinking quietly, the young soldier then hitched his breath as he finally recognized it and ran back to the doorway. Glancing to his platoon taking a photo, Alek had yelled out to them with power in his voice.

“ **_STUKA!_ ** ” 

Glancing to their comrade, the platoon then raised their eyesight to the skies, hearing the loud droning soon come into clear hearing. They watched for any sign of it, hoping to see the plane before it did first. Slowly standing up from the canisters, some soldiers readied their rifles, venting in as the planes emerged from the clouds, already beginning to drop their bombs.

“Down!” The commander yelled and dropped to the floor, as Alek had done the same, covering his head to protect himself from the debris that showered once the bombs exploded. He flinched at the explosions, his heart beating rapidly within his chest as his hearing was muffled from the close proximity of explosions. 

Once the droning noise was far off in the distance and silence befell the street, the smell of gasoline filled his nostrils, causing the young soldier to slowly lift his head to the sight of an ongoing fire. The canisters that were filled with that gasoline were no longer available, instead had become something of a bomb themselves. Slowly standing from the rubble that covered him, Alek vented and coughed at the smoke that surrounded the area, trying to make any sense of where he was.

Looking back at the HQ he emerged from, it was true that it was no longer standing, and only an appropriate pile of rubble. The young soldier wiped some blood from his nose and forehead, stumbling lightly over some bricks and what he could only deem as pieces of metal from their vehicles.

Once the smoke had cleared, it was made simple that he had been the only one remotely unaffected. He heard the muffled screams of his platoon mates, before ultimately ceasing as their injuries were grave and fatal. Silence befell the street once more, and the young soldier soon dropped to his knees, looking at the destruction left behind. 

He blamed himself.

If only he was quicker in those few seconds, he could have prevented the lives lost. Now he was alone, unsure of himself. Hearing the droning noise again, deep blue eyes gazed up to the skies before realizing that the sound was coming from his left. Enemy tanks drove up to the scene, spotting the lone soldier that remained. Alek watched them ready their weapons, to end his life and the battle they were already losing. Lightly swallowing, deep blue eyes soon illuminated with a desirable blue, and a unfathomable yell came from his throat, screaming from deep within.

Caught off-guard, the enemy line was blown back by a pulse of energy, sending them flying into nearby buildings or each other, and soldiers who were on foot were no longer their human remains, instead - just mere dust. Softly panting as he no longer threatened, the young soldier shakily stood and grabbed hold of the deceased journalist’s camera, before looking to the cracked photo lens, staring at the reflection in the glass. What was happening to him - do he honestly do that?

He gazed at the environment around him, before slowly turning on his heel, and moving down the street, practically unconscious. He felt dead inside, unsure and had no commander to tell him otherwise of his mission. Before he knew it, he was at the shore depot, gazing at the long line of people that were anxiously awaiting to board a ship to escape the clutches of war. Many of them were war torn, grimey and dusty. Some were crying, grasping at what little items they had to remind them of their loved ones. 

Slowly entering the line, he watched as many were turned away, and only a few were allowed on board for having credentials. Coming up to the guard checkpoint, Alek watched as the guard had asked him a question, to which he didn’t respond. He couldn’t - no matter how he wanted to open his mouth, his lips wouldn’t leave. Instead, his eyes simply illuminated to a soft glow of blue, causing the guard to blink in surprise before softening his expression to a solemn one. He soon motioned for the other to the ship.

“Get on.” Standing there for a mere moment longer, Alek then turned towards the ship to enter in, taking a seat amongst the others that were granted permission to leave. Poised, quiet, he ignored the look of a fellow woman beside him, who took notice of his soldier uniform. 

“Were you on the line?” The woman had asked, gazing up to the dusty, grimey face of the young man. Not receiving a response, the woman then glanced to what was most likely her older husband, who also glanced at Alek.

“He’s got a Russian demeanor. Most likely part of the opposing force.”

“Roger, stop. We’re all opposing forces. Everyone’s at war with everybody. Besides, he’s got alliance tags on, he’s fighting with us.” The woman lightly hit the older man’s hand to his rude interaction before gazing back to the soldier beside her. She soon touched his hand, causing Alek to flinch at the contact, and for his hand to pull away from her, causing the woman to return her hand away from the other. 

“... I’m sure you’re very scared, but we’re going to be okay.” Slowly turning his head to look at the woman, Alek then returned his vision to the camera in his hands, wondering if the film was still inside and still intact. The photo he took, moments before they were blown away. Dead eyes soon glanced down to the floor, as the experience replayed in his mind like a vinyl on loop, over and over - a constant waking nightmare. 

The ship departed from that shore, carrying the lives of thousands to escape that realm of death and destruction. What life would await him on the other side? Let alone if his identity would be accepted in the States? He was a soldier still, by their standards. He might be shipped back to that enduring war, to be on the winning team, if there was such one. Lightly coming to his realization, Alek patted his pants pockets, venting lightly as nothing was within them.

His friend’s dog tags - he had dropped them.

Sitting back in his seat, Alek then softly reached into his shirt and pulled out his own tags, breaking the chain to relieve himself of the weight. He gazed to his name and number, shakily inhaling as he tried to scratch them out, yet to no avail. They were still seen, weathered and grimey. Curling his fingers around them, deep blue eyes then closed as he wanted to get rid of them.

“Hey.” Opening his eyes, the young man then gazed to the guard that stood before him, nodding for him to get up.

“Go through immigration. We’re here.” Blinking lightly, Alek glanced to the open doors, finding the room he was in to be completely empty and devoid of the thousands that sat around. Had he experienced time loss? Why were they here so early? Quietly standing, the pale man then moved out of the ship, squinting his eyes to the brightness of sunshine that spread warmth over the lands. He gazed up at the landmark beside the ship, a statue of a woman holding a book and torch.

New York.

Filing into the line for immigration, the pale man glanced as he was up next, and asked to see his credentials. Credentials? Lightly blinking, the young soldier then took out his dog tags and showed it to the man, to which he was turned down.

“No, your real ID. It doesn’t matter if you were in the army, I need your government issued identification card.” Silently standing there, Alek watched as a suit-dressed man came up to the immigration guard and whispered into his ear, causing the man to turn to him. 

“But he doesn’t have his--” Stopping his words at the look he was given, the guard then glanced back to Alek, before eventually writing off on the paper and giving it to him. Taking hold of the paper confusingly, the pale man watched as the guard saluted.

“Thank you for your service. Welcome to the land of the free. Enjoy your stay.” Quietly blinking, the young man then slowly turned to leave, wondering what caused the change of mind. It was true, he didn’t have his identification - he left it behind. He wasn’t in the right state of mind to collect all of his things, as what he experienced was all he could necessarily think about. 

Sitting down at a bench, the pale man gazed up at the statue on the sea, holding the camera within his hands. A souvenir of what had occurred, caught a mere moment before total destruction. What did this mean for him now? When he endured that moment of saving himself… that realm he was in - what was he to expect now? He was in the states, no money to his name, nothing seemed to be appropriate to go for. That facility he saw - was no dream. He was sure it was a real place.

He was determined to find out what it was.

Heading to the library, the man ignored the looks he was given, based on the outfit he was wearing. Obviously it wasn’t every day that soldiers walk into libraries with their uniform on. Going down the rows and rows of books, he tried everything. From searching facilities or research articles that could lead him in the direction he was looking for. Quietly tossing a book up onto a stack of other books, he then carried them over to a table to skim through, hoping to find some source of content that was familiar.

It took practical hours, and his thumbs were sore from the constantly flipping of the pages. Lightly sitting back in his seat, the young soldier then gazed to his right, spotting the same man in the blue suit - himself - amongst an aisle. Standing up, Alek then hastily made his way after the man once he turned to leave, most likely recognized he was being chased after. Moving between the rows, the young soldier growled lightly as he evaded once again. It wasn’t until he gazed between the rows of books that he finally caught sight to the other.

“ **_Who are you? What are you?_ ** ”

“ **_That… is a question with a multitude of answers._ ** ”

“ **_Then just give me_ ** **_one._ ** ”

“ **_It is an answer you yourself already know. To find what you are looking for, one must look in the right places._ ** ” Looking around, Alek then tried to gaze at the other’s face, finding it to be hard as he was turned around and hidden amongst the stacks of books.

“ **_Why are you... me?_ ** ”

“ **_You are aware of the…. circumstances, that you have been placed through, yes? Surely that answer must come of a… delicate price._ ** ”

“ **_I… I saved myself. But… why… why am I experiencing this?_ ** ”

“ **_Look in the right places, Alek. You’ll find your answer._ ** ” Hearing a slam of a book beside him, Alek flinched and looked to the librarian who bent down to pick up the book she dropped and returned it to the shelf before leaving. Glancing back through the crack, the young soldier then moved to the other aisle of where the man was, venting heavily as he was indeed gone. 

However, what was left behind was even more strange. A freshly pressed blue suit and briefcase, just laying in the middle of the aisle. Glancing around to see if anyone took notice of such a strange sight, Alek then slowly moved to collect the items, lightly feeling the fabric between his fingers. Inhaling sharply, the young soldier then took to the bathroom and locked himself in, making sure no one was inside. Setting the contents onto the counter, the young man lightly swallowed and gazed to himself in the mirror. 

Turning on the faucet, Alek began to undress from his soldier uniform, taking some water that spilled out to clean his face and body from dirt and grime, practically giving himself a shower within the library bathroom. Once he was cleaned up, the young man slicked his hair back before dressing into the suit, sliding the jacket over his shoulders, realizing how scarily accurate it fit on him. Lightly flexing his fingers, the pale man realized how strange he felt while wearing it. 

Almost as if his asked questions were answered. Glancing to the briefcase, Alek slowly moved over and clicked it open, lightly inhaling as he didn’t know what to expect within. Heartbeat began to quicken, and soon the young man closed it back up again and simply took hold of the handle, and his old uniform to leave the bathroom once he heard the complaints of someone outside.

He ignored the look he got as he left, hoping he didn’t seem too suspicious when leaving. After all, he was in a nicely dressed suit, holding a pair of… well, not so nice clothes of a soldier. Moving over to the stack of books, Alek took hold of the old camera and left the library, thankful that no one stared at him. He was practically blended in now, one with the people of New York. 

Or at least the wealthier men who could afford this wear.

Approaching a bench that overlooked out to sea, Alek sighed heavily in exhaustion. It felt as if he had been awake for days, or practical years. Quietly venting, the man in the blue suit gazed to the camera in his hold. Should he even try and salvage the photo that remained of that harsh war? Tenderly touching over the cover, the young soldier gazed up to the skies as he heard the residual droning noise. 

“ **_Stop…_ ** ” Alek vented out in fear, swallowing as the noise got louder, deafening even. He clenched his eyes and tried to forget the nightmarish noise, covering his head as he awaited the bombs to drop. 

Yet they didn’t come. 

Only the loud droning noise of the Stuka plagued his mind, and the vermillion to seep from his nostrils again, dripping to the ground. Slowly, the screeching silenced, and the shaking individual to finally lift his head upon the sound of sea waves. Wind rustled his hair, as he wearily gazed around the environment. No longer on a park bench, but rather on a sandy beach. A long stretch of the shore, extending for miles in both directions. Where was he now?

Slowly standing up from the sand, the young soldier glanced behind him, venting as he was only met with a wall of trees, and no longer the jungle of buildings of New York. Had he done this? Did he think of himself here? Or was this just a simple nightmare? Surely he was still on the park bench, perhaps asleep from the exhausting day. 

Lightly inhaling, the young soldier glanced to his right, blinking as he caught sight to an old shack, hidden away amongst the trees that met the shore. Taking hold of his items, the pale man stumbled across the sandy beach in his Oxfords, approaching up to the shack. He gazed into the open door, venting lightly as no one was deemed inside.

He entered, carefully, still on alert of what his drill instructor etched into him. Expect the unexpected and be ready for it. Alek softly vented as he didn’t see anything of value inside, and simply set down his own items. Perhaps this could be a place he could call his own. However, it was a wonder where exactly he was, as this place wasn’t easily recognizable. No one to call his neighbors, or even his alternate self showed.

As night crept along, Alek carefully opened the cover of the camera that held the film within, making sure it wasn’t entirely damaged and he could save the photo within. Suit jacket off to relieve the constricted movement, the young soldier smiled lightly as he salvaged the film, or at least part of it that mattered most. Holding it within his hands, a wave of emotion soon came over him, and deep blue eyes began to fill with tears.

Even if years had passed him by like nothing… it was a mere day and a half for his understanding. Letting out a choked cry, the pale man slowly hung his head, shaking lightly to the realization of him being truly alone. Was this retribution? For him not dying along with his platoon? Or even warning them of their death quick enough? 

“ **_It’s neither._ ** ” Snapping his head upwards to the voice, Alek vented sharply as the same man from before was looking at items on the wall, before glancing at the young soldier who was sat on the floor. The wall was covered in pictures and paintings of the moments captured by war, Death, destruction, before evidently fading into moments of his life that he couldn’t remember. 

Why couldn’t he remember?

“ **_What do you w-want from me…? Haven’t I endured enough?_ ** ” Approaching the young soldier, the man in the suit then touched his chin to lift his face, illuminated eyes gazing over the smoothness of his skin before glancing back into those deep blue eyes.

“ **_This is only the beginning unless you accept your fate._ ** ”

“ **_What fate?! My fate was to the battlefield! To die an honorable death for my country, not jump through… through time!_ ** ” Staring at the younger alternate, the older simply clicked his tongue in shame before releasing the other’s face.

“ **_Discipline will go far and wide for you. Our eh-eh-eh-employers, will see to it._ ** ” Kneeling to the other, the government man then pushed the other onto his back before looming over him. Body frozen in fear, Alek vented in quietly as his throat closed with the anxieties that sprouted within, lightly kicking his feet as the other had merged with him. As the older alternate disappeared above him, and his feet ceased their kicking with soft intent. 

Laying there on the floor, Alek then slowly rose to sit up, head lightly turning to gaze at the dog tags that were beside him. His own, still etched with his name and number. Standing up and grabbing hold of his suit jacket, the pale man had soon slipped it around his shoulders, buttoning it up with poise and grace. Gazing to the mirror on the wall, he glanced to the illuminated eyes that stared back, before turning to collect his briefcase, fingers delicately curling around the handle.

Leaving the small cabin and the contents within behind, the bureaucratic man lightly fixed his tie and cleared his throat before warping out of the area, and presenting himself on the tram of the facility he recognized before. Whispers filled his head and mind, soul and body, before ceasing at the sight of the other tram moving along the track across from him.

Eyes settled upon that of the man within, goatee, glasses - dressed in lab wear, and most likely on his way to work. It was the first time the other had glanced at him, seemingly confused and curious to the pale man’s presence. Once the tram had left, the G-man then grinned lightly, eyes illuminating to their desirable blue.

Limitless potential.


End file.
